


Faithless

by GoforthAndConquer



Category: Final Fantasy XII
Genre: F/M, Serious lack of communication, UST for the win, a wee bit of angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-09-20
Updated: 2012-09-20
Packaged: 2017-11-14 16:57:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,514
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/517496
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GoforthAndConquer/pseuds/GoforthAndConquer
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It had been a year since she had seen him and the reunion is not quite what she expects.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Faithless

It was that time of morning when the sun just barely slips over the horizon, the sky melting ink blue into gold. Ashe was awake, but not ready to wake up, curling deeper into the satin sheets that slithered like a whisper across her skin. She loved this time of morning, when she could remain in bed and just listen to the world awake around her. Early in her reign as queen, she didn't relish this time, just hopped out of bed and made ready for a new day. But more and more often, instead of lunging ahead, she would lounge in the fading darkness and daydream. She knew why this habit had recently taken her, the memories swelling inside her head. She fell into her thoughts, the silence warm and inviting, her mind restless with remembering.

* * *

It had been a year since she had seen him.

When she had received the note, his scrawl too familiar to her eyes, Ashe hadn't been sure which emotion to summon. Whether it would be joy, to finally now for certain that he was alive, or anger, that he had taken so long to reach her, or sorrow, that despite everything it wouldn't make any difference. So instead, she chose nothing, only a half hearted smile, a tweak of the lips to express her relief that Balthier still remained among the living and watched the sky. Since the Bahamut had tumbled into the desert, freeing her to reclaim her throne as she had always wanted, she took to staring at the sky whenever she had a free moment. Something about that endless blue, beckoning freedom, comforted her, as if she believed that as long as the sky still lived, so did he. Foolish, perhaps, but she was only twenty, and could not be expected to fully cast aside girlish whimsy.

So Ashe had placed the note beneath her pillow, the most severe girlish behavior, and had thought that nothing would come of it. Nights passed, his words resting beneath her cheek, her dreams recalling more dangerous and yet happier times. Needless to say, she had nearly swallowed her tongue when one week later, she had returned from a council meeting to find him sitting on her bed, twirling the note between his fingers.

He hadn't changed much, she had noticed. He still wore those impossibly tight leather slacks, his gun belt hanging rakish on his hips, the clasps of his leather vest all snapped in place. His hair was still ruddy auburn and elegantly disheveled, and she could even see the baubles glistening in his ears. It had taken a moment for the differences to settle in. His skin was cast paler, not the earthy gold she was accustomed, as if he had remained inside all this time. He had newer scars, one twisting just barely above his shirt collar, another slashed through his eyebrow, remnants of the Bahamut. And yet, Ashe could barely contain her stuttering pulse, the flare of heat running in her veins, her chest aching to be filled. It had taken all of her strength not to run into his arms and weep for days.

"Balthier," she whispered, voice breaking slightly.

He had looked up then, and Ashe, not knowing at all what to expect anyway, was most surprised to see the cold anger blistering in his gaze.

His mouth twisted into a barely concealed sneer. "My queen," he murmured, quiet with venom.

It had been like being slapped, and she, the Queen of Dalmasca, had nearly tumbled to the ground with the pain of it.

* * *

Ashe opened her eyes, clutching the sheets to her chest, the memory still throbbing through her nerve endings. The loathing he had spat her way still made her weak with remembering. But she didn't blame him, not now, not after everything. She had needed loathing then. Even though, Ashe thought ruefully, he could have given her a little warning.

* * *

"What's wrong?" She asked, still confused and hurting, "Why are you like this?"

Balthier stood, his note still clutched tight in his fingers, muscles coiled to strike. "Like what, Your Highness? Should I be glad to see you?"

Ashe had wavered then, unprepared for the attack, but her warrior blood called her to defend, and she had raised her chin in defiance, anger swelling near painfully inside her. "I would assume that after a year there might be some sort of reunion, but if you're here to fling unwarranted insults, then you may leave the way you came."

"Unwarranted?" He said, softly lethal. His copper eyes blazed hatred, his jaw clenched in rage. "Unwarranted?"

Ashe, calling upon courage that had been dormant for a year, had strode forward, every step proclaiming her queen. "That is what I said. Repeating it endlessly will not change the wording. Now, pirate, I order you to leave my chamber before I call the guard."

Silence. Slowly, his fist curled, her note crushed in his grip. Ashe couldn't help the twinge at the sight, not after having nurtured his words since it had arrived. But instead she glared at him, hands on her hips, muscles barely shaking at the conflicting emotions warring within her. So close to him now, she could see the flickers of gold in his eyes, and even as angry as she was, she couldn't quite bury the need to hold him against her to be sure he was real. But it was his play, and she waited for his move.

"You heartless bitch."

She had gasped then, anger shattering at his words. Never once had he said such a thing to her, even when they were bickering as comrades, even when she was a deposed princess with nothing to her name. Agony burned in her chest, and she could no longer hold up a defense.

She gaped at him, shock and pain clearly writ on her features. "Why?" She whispered, "Why would you say such a thing to me?"

And as if the words hadn't been enough of a blow, Balthier began to laugh, hard and sharp, his gaze filled with poison and razors. "Of course you'd play the feminine card. Too bad I know better, my Queen. You're no weepy female brimming with emotions. No, you're empty of anything but ice and greed. I taught you well then."

That had been it. Temper raged in her, hot and frustrated and aching, and she screamed in the unfairness of it all. "What the bloody hell are you talking about?"

He had paused then, and she could she the tiniest shred of doubt linger in his eyes, but it as quickly devoured by venom again as he continued his accusations. "Playing the innocent again. Tell me, Queen, after the Bahamut crashed, did you immediately stop giving a damn about anyone but yourself, or did it take effort?"

Ashe stared, still in shock, still heated with rage and pain. But Balthier continued, heedless to her state.

"I mean, we had all traveled with back and forth across Ivalice to win you back your crown, and after we succeeded, what then? Nothing. Not even a thank you. Though we deserved much more if you ask me."

"Of course I was grateful," Ashe sniped, clenching her gown to pieces in her fists, "And I did thank you all, you idiot pirate!"

Balthier strode forward, and she could do nothing but back up until she hit the wall. He was even closer now, she could feel the heat radiating off him, the air near vibrating with intensity. "Then tell me, Queen, how your gratitude extended to Vaan and Penelo?"

She balked, confused. "What?"

"They had nothing to gain from your little adventure, just untimely death, and yet they followed you because they believed it was right," He pressed on, words biting, "And how do you repay them? Send them back to Lowtown without a word. Tell the people nothing of their heroics. It's as if they don't exist anymore."

"No!" she had exclaimed, eyes wide with denial, "That's not true at all."

"Then what have you done for them, Your Highness?"

Ashe looked into his eyes, the tumultuous storm raging there, and could say nothing because it was true. Caught up in rebuilding, reinstating her father's advisors who had hid all during the war, she had let them dictate her actions. Not that she wanted to, they were a bunch of cowardly bastards, but the people had trusted them, and she had wanted to return some of Dalmasca to its former hands. And when she had asked to knight both Vaan and Penelo, they had told her the people would be uneasy with two orphan whelps protecting their kingdom. It would be showing favoritism, they said. So she had distanced herself from her former comrades, trying to show her people she was a strong queen. But looking into Balthier's eyes, seeing the cold disdain, the burning hatred, she had wondered if it was worth it.

"Nothing," she whispered, shame spilling into her voice and brimming in her eyes.

She had thought he was done then, that he had won the battle and would laugh and be on his pirate way, so she had gasped in surprise when he placed his hands on either side of her head, leaning in close and letting the tatters of his note fall to the floor.

"And me, Your Highness?" He murmured, voice low and poisonous. "What have you done for me?"

Ashe could barely keep her feet, and inwardly she cursed her stupid girlish fancy for this arrogant, irritating man that despite a year passing had not faded in the least. "I thought you were dead," she said, her voice fluttering but there was steel underlying it. "I could do nothing for you."

"Then why," he asked, copper eyes boring into hers, "did you change my bounty from 500,000 gil dead or alive to one million just dead?"

It was as if the world had stopped. Horror had stripped her bare, her emotions naked and vulnerable before him. Ashe couldn't stop her trembling, couldn't stop the artic cold seeping through her blood and into her bones. Terror unlike she had ever known had reduced her from a Queen to a girl, and tears spilled down her cheeks in silence.

"No," she whispered, shaking her head furious as if it were all a terrible dream, "No, it's not true. It's not true."

"Why do you think I've been gone for a year?" Balthier demanded, unrelenting. "I had every bounty hunter hungry for my blood. My picture has been posted in every major city, and even common folk have taken shots at me. It's gotten so bad that I've been underground for half a year. Fran told me it was no use and returned to Eruyt Village to live with her people. And I'm nothing more than a hunted man who cannot take refuge anywhere. And you mean to tell me that you had no idea."

Ashe had had enough. She couldn't take any more accusations, any more loathing for crimes she had not committed. Rage stormed beneath her skin, black and writhing, and with a snarl she pushed Balthier backwards, moving forward with predatory intent.

"You faithless bastard," she growled, reveling in how he was now ridden with surprise, "You don't know me at all. If you did, you would have known I would never have betrayed you so." She kept moving forward, pushing him backwards with every step. "I'm in love with you, you arrogant, heartless, insufferable man and I never want to see you again."

She had stopped, breaths ripped out of her chest in ragged gasps, nails biting into the palms of her hands until she could feel blood pooling against her fingertips. Balthier was frozen in place, shock burning in his gaze, hands trembling slightly. And without a word he ran, leaping out her balcony and climbing haphazard to the ground below. Once Ashe heard his footsteps echoing on the terrace, she collapsed to the ground and wept.

* * *

Ashe sighed, turning onto her back, staring at the ornate ceiling looming above her. They had been so angry, and yet those things needed to be said. She smirked slightly, remembering the next morning. As it had turned out, her advisors, aware of her fondness for a certain pirate, had taken measures to prevent his return by ordering his death. Once she had found the paperwork, she had immediately gone to the people, announcing that all of her father's advisors were being arrested for treason to the crown. She was now a Queen alone without council, and yet the people had roared with enthusiasm, louder than she had expected. Their faith in her healed her in ways she couldn't imagine.

It had taken a few days, the palace was in a bit of upheaval, but she had managed to summon Vaan and Penelo to her chambers. Almost without any ado, she had asked them to kneel, and knighted them protectors of the realm. There was a good bit of tears, at least on the girls' part, and they had spent the whole day catching up, laughing and crying and making plans. Penelo wanted to work with Ashe to form a new council of the people, common folk who would express their opinions along with the nobility. Vaan took up immediately with the Royal Air Fleet, and was fast working his way up the ranks. They had both thanked her profusely, and had told her never once had they stopped believing in her.

The sun was nearly clear of the horizon now, and Ashe smiled as she basked in memories. Without hesitation, she had torn up the bounty on Balthier, and made a public announcement that he had done his duty to her country by aiding her in reclaiming her throne, and would never be a fugitive in Dalmasca again. She yawned, stretching like a cat, a wicked grin on her face. Of course, she had never guessed what was to occur.

* * *

It had been another long day, and Ashe had been most ready to retire to her room. Reforming not only a council, but a senate, was long and exhausting work, but she enjoyed every minute of it. She walked into her chamber, locking the door behind her, and stopped almost comically. It had been three weeks, and just like before, he was sitting on her bed, waiting for her.

Ashe had sputtered a bit, but composed herself quickly. "Are you going to make it a habit of breaking into my room, pirate?"

He hadn't answered, just stared at her in silence. She had noted that his skin was returning to dusky gold, and she felt a flicker of joy that she had freed him of hiding, thanks to her no good former advisors. When he didn't answer, Ashe wandered about the room, setting her coronet on the bedside table, slipping her shoes off by the closet. When she had dared to look at him again, he still hadn't moved. She sighed, unwilling to play games, and walked over to stand in front of him, hands on her hips.

"Balthier, what do you want?" She asked, waiting for a response.

He nodded, slow, as if coming to a decision inside himself. "Faithless," he murmured, so soft she could barely hear. And without warning he had snatched her hand, pulling her onto his lap and was kissing her senseless before she could react.

It had taken a moment, but soon she was kissing him back, almost violently, whimpering low in her throat. His hands burned her skin, dragging her hard against him, fingers digging into her hips while her hands curled into his hair. Ashe had never felt anything like it. Even hurried, Balthier took the time to explore her mouth, taste every inch of her, pausing to nip her jaw or nibble on her lower lip. Never had someone taken such measures to memorize her, to savor her as if she would disappear in an instant. He growled into her mouth, and she couldn't help an answering snarl, yanking his head back and setting her teeth into his throat, desperate to mark him. He gasped into her hair, urging her further as she bit and licked at his pulse point, abusing his skin into a delicious purple. He had pulled her back to his mouth, kissing her soundly, and soon they were both breathing heavy, trembling against each other.

Ashe had near keened at the loss, but confusion was making itself known. "Balthier," she had asked, voice husky, "What is this?"

"Three weeks ago," he murmured, his hands making circles on her hips, "when I accused you of a great many things, you called me faithless."

She had nodded, remembering, breathing heavily in her throat. "Yes, I did."

A few moments passed, and Balthier had stolen another kiss from her, quick and heady. "And I came here to say you're wrong."

With a start, she had looked at him, gaping in surprise. "That's why you're here?" She could barely believe it. Out of all the things she had said to him, it was faithless that he had clung to. The man would never stop confusing her.

"Partly," he responded, his mouth finding the tender spot behind her ear and sucking lightly. "I came here to tell you that you are the one without faith, not I."

"And why is that?" She gasped, trying not to wriggle frustrated in his lap and failing miserably.

"Because you assumed I would not come back for you."

Ashe had stopped then, abrupt, pulling back to look into his eyes. They were a sincere bronze, nothing hidden in their liquid depths. Hope fluttered in her chest, an unfamiliar feeling, and the joy at his being alive that she had buried for so long began to flare within her.

"What," she had whispered, bracing herself for the fall, "what does that mean?"

"What that means, Princess," she nearly swooned as he returned to her original title, the word soft with affection, "is that you assumed that your love was unrequited."

For the second time in a year, the world had stopped beneath her.

"And what does that mean?" Ashe had asked, trying not to sound desperate.

Balthier had smiled then, baring his teeth in a rakish grin. "I suppose being a king can't be but so dull with you to entertain me, Princess."

And Ashe couldn't do anything but laugh, only stopping when he claimed her mouth for his own.

* * *

So much had happened since then. Ashe had made Balthier announce his intention to formally court her to her people, and their joyous response had swept away any reservations. In public, he was a perfect gentleman, relying on his training as Ffamran Bunansa to make the appropriate gestures to satisfy gossips. However, she always looked forward to him sneaking into her room at night, destroying any sense of propriety she had ever had. How could she, when she had chosen a pirate for a husband? But then again, as Balthier often told her, she was a right hellcat for a lover and she would kill him one of these days. Ashe giggled, musing, but what a way to go.

It was fully morning now, the sun settled into the sky, filtering into her room in golden sheets. She sighed, it was probably time to get ready for the day, but as she turned to get out of bed a muscular arm circled her waist and she was dragged against a very sleepy Balthier.

"And where do you think you're going?" He asked, nuzzling into her neck.

She moaned, trying not to let him distract her. "The representative of Rozarria is here to discuss grain imports."

In an instant, Balthier was awake, leaning over her in a scowl. "Al-Cid is here? That oily fop?"

Ashe grinned; he was so delicious when he was riled. "He is one of our closest allies, you know. You shouldn't call him such names."

"He had the audacity to flirt with you in front of me. I'll call him whatever I want."

"That is just Al-Cid's way," Ashe conceded, hands sneaking up his forearms, "He likes flustering the King of Dalmasca. It amuses him."

Balthier pouted, then his eyes flickered, and a sinful grin spread across his features. Ashe narrowed her eyes, knowing her pirate husband very well. "What ever you are thinking, Balthier, I won't let you do it."

She had every intention of holding to that intent, but couldn't help the gasp that escaped her as a calloused, wicked hand slid up her thigh. He bent his head to her throat, biting hard as his hand found his prize, and she whimpered kittenish, writhing beneath him eager. His mouth found her ear, whispering, "Oh, you won't let me?"

Ashe grabbed his hair and forced him to look at her, hot and fuming. "Balthier, if you don't take me right now, I'll find my sword and skewer you."

He laughed, kissing her thoroughly. "As my lady wishes."


End file.
